When Love Begins
by HopeIsHere16
Summary: What if - during the reprise of "All I Ask Of You" at the end of the show - Christine was singing to Erik, rather than to Raoul? What if she realized that it was her Angel of Music who truly held her heart? Their choices have been made, and now they must live with the consequences. ALW-based. Now a multi-chap! E/C
1. When Love Begins

**Disclaimer: Pretty sure ALW doesn't write FanFiction, so no, I do not own Phantom of the Opera :)**

**A/N: Okay! So I just bought a copy of the Phantom of the Opera 25th Anniversary Show and I watched it last night and...bawled my eyes out. It was my first experience with the actual show (I own the 2004 movie and the Austrailian production of LND, but that's it) and I was simply blown away. I started BAWLING when Christine came back to return the ring and began the reprise of "All I Ask of You" like she was singing it to ****_Erik_****, and then stupid Raoul came in and ruined everything. So in THIS fanfic...well, what if Christine ****_had_**** been singing to Erik?**** :) Enjoy and don't forget to review!**

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Thrust once again into despair and darkness, Erik crumpled into a heap on the floor. Losing Christine again brought forth a pain so ubearable that Erik wasn't sure how his lonely heart was still beating. The steps on which he was sprawled were as cold and unforgiving as the world Erik had known for so long. Was this his fate, then? To wallow alone in self-pity for the rest of his horrendous existance? It seemed only appropriate, he decided, with a face as undeserving of love as his. From behind him, Erik heard the taunting sounds of his Persian monkey. The melody played slowly, the same melody to which the imbeciles had sung of hiding their faces at the masquerade. What did _they_ know of hiding? What did _they _know of seclusion? They were mocking him!

Even so, Erik crawled like a child over to wear the monkey slowly chimed the symbols, and he touched a shaking hand to the monkey's fur. He softly sang out in time with the tune:

_"Masquerade...paper faces on parade._

_"Masquerade...hide your face so the world...will never...find you..."_

As he sang, Erik gently covered the monkey's face with his palm. There...now it was like him; making beautiful music, yet hidden from those who desired to listen to it.

He had not heard her approaching, but when Erik turned around, Christine was there again. There was pity upon her face, and she was staring at him like a petulant child who was purposefully doing herself harm. Oh, yes, _laugh_ Christine, Erik silently begged. He wanted nothing more than a reason to loathe the woman before him, yet he could not. He loved her to his core, and he knew that he would do anything for her. He gazed up at her brokenly, begging her with his eyes to just give him a chance. He knew he had lost her already to that _Vicomte_, but he _had _to hold onto hope. He had known Christine for years...would she just look past his ugliness and see the man yearning for her beneath?

Slowly, ever so slowly, Erik stood from the ground. Christine looked down, as though she was ashamed, and she began to remove the ring from her finger. Erik came towards her still, knowing that if he didn't say the words he wanted to then he would forever regret it. His eyes bored into hers, and he sang with all of the passion and love in the world:

_"Christine...I love...you."_

Erik clasped his hand around hers, _needing _her to keep his ring. His beloved began to cry, tears pouring down her porcelain cheeks at a steady rate. Erik's heart broke a little bit more knowing that he had caused her such pain, but he could not coddle her now. His Christine was no longer a child...she had to learn to be a woman and make her own choices. He could only hope that her choice now would lead her to a new life with him. He would love her...he would tell her every single day how much he cared for her! She would be safe, she would be protected...

Gently, Christine placed a kiss on Erik's hand. Erik felt the immediate need to break away from such intimate contact, but he stood his ground. If his Christine was to stay with him, he would have to get used to such displays of affection. His heart swelled for a moment; was this it, then? Had she chosen him?

No...no! She was walking away again, leaving a cold ring of gold where her lips had met Erik's fingers just moments before. She turned from him, and - still sobbing heavily - slowly began to ascend the marble staircase once again. So this was it? Erik's pathetic life was finally over? His glass heart shattered all over again, and his lungs constricted. Was this what it felt like to die? Was this what it felt like to have your heart ripped from your chest?

Erik watched her leave; what else could he do? If this was the last he would ever see of Christine Daae, he wanted to remember every one of her features; her eyes, her hair, her nose, her teeth, everything. He found that there were so many small details of her face that he had overlooked before, things that he would no longer have the time to appreciate. The knowledge that he would never see his Angel again was daunting, and Erik's pain only increased further.

And then...something impossible happened. Christine turned around, her gaze meeting Erik's once more. She gave him the most distressed and anguished look that Erik had ever seen, and he wondered briefly if she was hurting as badly as he was. But she turned away again as quickly as she had looked back in the first place, and she began to climb the stairs once more. Just as Erik was turning his back to her in despair, her clear voice rang out through the night:

_"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime."_

Erik wondered for a moment if the Vicomte had returned for her, and was going to answer her with that sickening tune of theirs. It was nothing, it was _nothing _compared to the beautifully seductive tones Erik had taught to her! It was _nothing _compared to his - their - music of the night! That vicious _creature_ would _never _be good enough for Christine! Why couldn't she see that? Why couldn't she understand?

There was silence below the Opera Populaire. No Vicomte answered Christine's declaration, and reluctantly, Erik turned his head back in Christine's direction. He found her staring at him, a strange and foreign emotion in her eyes. It was not pity, yet it could not be...hope?

She slowly descended one of the steps, her eyes never breaking contact with Erik's, and she sang out again:

_"Say the word, and I will follow you."_

Erik would not answer her, especially not with the same melody that she and the Vicomte shared. He wondered for a moment if he was perhaps dreaming, for reality had never been so kind to him in all of his life. Deciding not to care for the time being, he stepped forward as well, introducing a new tune to his Angel of Music.

_"And I love you...yes, I love you._

_"I will follow anywhere you lead._

_"I shall be what you wish..._

_"I shall be what you need."_

A small smile played at the corner of Christine's tear-stained face, and she ran to Erik as quickly as she could manage in her large wedding gown. She thrust herself into his arms, and for a moment Erik could not move, for he was compeltely frozen with shock. He barely heard her response of:

_"Angel of Music, I denied you!_

_"Turning from true beauty!_

_"Angel of Music, my protector!_

_"Come to me, strange angel!"_

"I am your Angel of Music." whispered Erik incredulously, placing a foreign kiss ontop of Christine's mane of curls. The action, however new to Erik, felt more right than anything in the world. He pressed his forehead against Christine's, breathing in deeply as though she was all that was sustaining him. She closed her eyes in pleasure, and relaxed into him. She was utterly exhausted.

"Come, my dear." whispered Erik hoarsley, taking Christine's hand. He began to lead her towards his throne, where one of his many escapes was hidden beneath artifice. "I fear the mob is not far now; we must leave."

"But where will we go?" asked Christine tiredly, trying to block from her ears the sounds of the angry citizens of Paris who shouted after them. She held onto Erik more tightly.

"I don't know," admitted Erik. "But I will always protect you, Christine. That much I swear."

Christine smiled broadly, her tear-swollen eyes brightening. "I love you, Angel. I realize now I always have."

Erik was almost sure he was dreaming when he answered his angel, "As I have always loved you."

_Who knows when love begins? Who knows what makes it start?_

_One day it's simply there, alive inside your heart._

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**And that's that! I realize it wasn't much, but I really just wrote it for my own peace of mind. I was so upset over the ending that I just _had _to make it right. Even if other authors have done something similar, I hope you enjoyed my take on what could have (cough, cough, _should _have, cough, cough) happened. It's fun trying to get into Erik's head :) Review if you liked! Thanks guys!**

***PS: If you liked this, check out my multi-chap "Finding A Place Next To You", in which Christine finds Erik again after seven months of believing the fire at the Opera Populaire killed him. Well, she's returned as the prima donna, and her Angel of Music surely wouldn't miss _that! _:) Okay, enough advertising - see you guys later!***

**Oh, and one last thing - the tune Erik sings to Christine at first is from LND (Beneath A Moonless Sky) and the last lyrics are from LND also (Love Never Dies), and I don't own any of that. Okay? Okay :)**


	2. Sanctuary

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom, LND, or any songs or characters you recognize.**

**Author's Note: I am not promising a _long _multi-chap story. But as I was re-reading this, all I kept thinking was that I wanted to continue it. So we'll just play this by ear and see where it goes. This tends to happen to me _all _the time. Whenever I TRY to write a multi-chap story, it either doesn't succeed or I lose my muse for it. However, whenever I write something as a ONE-shot, it usually ends up as a long story. I believe my record of that is a one-shot that eventually became a 35 chapter story with a sequel. I always say I won't continue something, but I usually do anyway :P Thank you for all of the support you gave me in chapter 1, faithful readers, and I hope you enjoy chapter 2 as well :) **

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_"Angel, how did you get to Heaven?" _

_"What do you mean, Christine?" _

_"Were you born up in Heaven? Or were you a man once?" _

_"I've never been a man." _

_"So you've always been an Angel?" _

_"I've never been a man." _

_"Oh...well, is it nice up in Heaven? Are you and my papa happy?" _

_"It's like no existence you could imagine." _

_"I dream about it sometimes. I pretend that I have wings, and one day, I'll fly up to you and papa and we'll all be together for real." _

_"Don't wish your life away, Christine. You have a beautiful gift - share it with the world." _

_"But I'd rather be with you, Angel! My gift doesn't mean anything if you're not here!" _

_"Oh, how I wish that were true, my Christine. But you are still young and naive...you don't understand how the world works. The realm outside of this Opera is not the innocent place you seem to see, child. It is dark and cruel and mean - beacons of light, such as yourself, must always be treasured and protected." _

_"You're a beacon too, Angel." _

_"On the contrary, I am the very essence of darkness and shadow." _

_"Shadows aren't made by the dark, Angel - they're made by light. And darkness isn't such a bad thing...nighttime is in the dark, and I _love _the nighttime." _

_"_You_ love the night?" _

_"Of course I do...I think it's beautiful." _

_"That's enough for today, Christine. Run along now. Leave me." _

_"Are you sure? I could stay and talk to you for a while, Angel." _

_"Leave this place. Go now, leave me alone." _

_"Yes, Angel." _

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Erik led Christine through twisting tunnels and dusty catacombs. They had no source of light and no indication of when they would be in the clear. The journey to safety was silent, and the only way Erik knew Christine was still there at all was by the gentle pressure of her hand in his. What a glorious feeling it was just to hold her precious hand! He handled it with the greatest of care, as though it was made of porcelain or glass. His feather-light touch sent shivers down Christine's spine. Erik turned around often to check on her, and he stared at her beautiful face for minutes at a time. How difficult it was to connect the young woman before him with the crying child he had once comforted in the chapel of the Opera Populaire.

Eventually, there came a fork in the tunnels, and Erik was able to piece together exactly where it was he and Christine were. He hadn't used this particular passageway for many years, but he had built it for a purpose, and he knew just where he and Christine would end up. No one would think to follow them to the destination Erik now set for them; if Erik could just get Christine to Antoinette Giry's residence, he knew he would be able to keep her safe.

"Christine," whispered Erik in the darkness, his voice breaking the delicate silence. "My dear, I know how tired you must be. We don't have much further to go now. But you must remain coherent."

There was no reply for Erik except the darkness.

Erik turned around to see why it was his Christine had not answered him. His eyes were easily able to make out her form in the darkness, and she was giving him an odd look. She was scrutinizing him with her gaze, and then without a warning, her legs buckled beneath her. Erik watched in horror as the whites of Christine's eyes were all he could see before they closed altogether, and then she was falling. Erik's quick reflexes allowed him to catch his Christine before she hit the ground, and he took her small form into his embrace. She was easy for him to carry, but he wasn't sure he would be able to take her all the way to their goal in such a manner without being spotted.

Such an ugly creature carrying an unconscious angel in his arms would surely look suspicious.

Erik gently sank to the floor, and pressed his back against the wall. He held Christine in his lap, and brushed her hair out of her face. He had to pause for a moment to think of the best way to proceed. While he thought, he admired Christine. He admired her peaceful face, and the dreams she must have been having. He caressed her soft cheek, and marveled in wonder at it. Such perfection, not a single flaw in sight. His hand gently trailed all over one half of her face, overlooking nothing. And then his hand as well as his eyes moved to look at the other half of her face, a perfect match. Her features were completely in tune with each other. There was nothing about her face that was displeasing to the eye.

Erik's calloused hand then moved to his own face, but he could barely touch it without feeling revulsion. He knew in his pitiful excuse for a heart that he did not deserve Christine.

Erik snapped himself out of it - such thoughts were not going to help him and his angel make their escape. He hummed a lullaby to his Christine without thinking, and then settled her more comfortably in his arms. He grasped her tightly, and stood once more. He focused all of his thoughts on one thing - Christine would not be safe until he got her to Giry. So with renewed energy, Erik made a mad dash for the outside world by going through the tunnel that would lead him there.

It seemed to take hours. Erik was sure to take every back road and alley that he came across. While it was highly unlikely that anyone in Paris would be out and about at such an hour, he refused to take any chances. He had never actually been to Antoinette's home before, as she was usually available for him to contact at the opera house, but she had once drawn for him a map in case of an emergency. He had taken to memorizing the map in his spare time, and he was sure he remembered where he was meant to be going.

Erik's thoughts did not travel back to the opera house. He refused to allow himself to think of the flames engulfing his stage, his instruments, his performers, his opera box, or his home. He did not think of all the wasted hours he'd spent at his organ, composing brilliant works that were sure to become nothing more than ash by morning. He had left behind everything that mattered to him...in exchange for something so much better.

Christine stirred slightly in Erik's arms, and he heard her mumble something unintelligible. She began to shiver, and it was then that Erik realized how cold it was outside. He immediately stopped his trek, and moved Christine so that she was supported by only one of his arms. He removed his cloak with the other, and wrapped Christine in it as though she was a child. He pressed her even more tightly to his chest, and prayed to a God he had so long not believed in just to get to Giry before Christine caught her death.

Finally, long after the moon had begun to set, Erik arrived at a modest home outside the city. There were very few neighbors, which Erik considered to be a positive thing. It seemed, actually, as though no one lived in the house at all. That was not too far from the truth, as a matter of fact, because Antoinette and Meg Giry spent most of their time at the Opera Populaire, and stayed there on most nights. They simply kept their house in the country for convenience. And for the fact that something could very easily go wrong at the opera house, forcing the mother and daughter to reside in their true residence. Such a disaster had occured only hours before, and Erik hoped with all his might that they were home.

Erik looked all around to ensure that he and Christine had not been followed before he knocked on the door thrice. He waited impatiently, rocking back and forth on his feet in fear. If Giry was not home, he did not have another plan.

Eventually, Erik heard movement behind the door and walls, and someone clicked a lock. A moment later, Antoinette's head appeared in a small crack in the doorway. She had just been about to ask who on earth was knocking at such an hour when she really _looked _at the pair before her. She saw Erik, sweating and unmasked, cradling a pale and swaddled Christine in his arms. Antoinette immediately assumed the worst.

"Oh, Erik," she moaned in horror. What had the boy _done_? "What have you done?"

"Giry, please." begged Erik, using a foreign tone of desperation. "Will you give us sanctuary?"

Without a word Antoinette stepped aside, and opened the door widely enough that Erik could carry Christine inside. She dared not say a word until the girl was tucked away in a bed somewhere - she looked pale enough to mistaken for dead.

Erik didn't realize how tired he was until he released Christine from his arms. When he saw that she was safely on the couch and covered in blankets, his legs began to wobble and his mind began to cloud. How long had it been since he had found sleep? Days?

"Erik, what is going on?" came Antoinette's hushed voice. She'd been watching him with concern since the moment he'd stepped over her threshold.

Erik stared only at Christine while he answered his old friend. He whispered incredulously, "She chose me."

"What did you say?" asked Antoinette innocently, truly not having heard the words Erik had spoken. He had said them so softly and full of disbelief.

"She left with the boy," explained Erik, making sure to speak a bit louder. "And then she came back. She chose me."

Antoinette's eyes softened, and she switched her gaze back and forth between Christine and Erik. She saw the utter devotion and love with which Erik watched Christine, and she knew that such a look was sure to be reciprocated when the young ingenue woke from her slumber.

"What will you do now?" asked Antoinette quietly. She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face as she waited for Erik to answer her. He paused for a moment, presumably thinking of what to say, before he replied.

"I will stay with her." he said in conviction. His tone left no room for argument. "As long as she'll have me."

"But where will you _go_?" Antoinette specified. "You cannot stay in Paris, Erik, and I am sure that you are aware of the reason."

This time, it was clear to Antoinette that she would get no response. Erik was too focused on Christine, and he was probably more than a bit worried about her.

"She is exhausted." stated Antoinette simply, taking to standing by Christine's side. She risked a glance at Erik, and for the first time really _saw _him. He had dark, black circles beneath his eyes and he looked weak and unsteady. "And I can see that you are as well. The guest room is upstairs. Take it, and rest."

"I won't sleep on a bed while she has the couch!" shouted Erik in a tone of disgust. Antoinette should have known better.

"Of course not." she said, choosing to agree with whatever Erik said. "Why don't we take her upstairs, and then you'll have the couch?"

Erik nodded gruffly, and swept Christine in his embrace once more. He did not know what tomorrow would bring, but he knew that their journey had only just begun.


	3. Unfamiliar

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom, LND, or any songs or characters you recognize.**

**Author's Note: Thanks for sticking by me, everyone! Here is Chapter 3 :)**

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When Erik awoke the next evening from his slumber, his tired mind immediately snapped into focus. He had not slept for such a long period of time in many years, and the rest had certainly done him good. He was hyper-aware of everything, and quickly discovered that he was the only one in Giry's house who was awake.

He threw off the thin blanket that covered him, which Antoinette must have placed upon him at some point during his sleep. His thoughts were too filled with worry for Christine to feel any kind of gratitude towards his old friend. Rather than waste his time by resting any further, Erik removed himself from the couch and stretched his muscles with a groan. Several parts of his body ached, but Erik ignored the trivial pains. They were _nothing _compared to the heartache that could have befallen him had Christine not returned. Christine was all that Erik could think of at the moment, and he knew that he would not be able to accomplish anything else that needed to be done until he saw for himself that she was okay. Using all the stealth of the Opera Ghost, Erik slithered through the small and humble home in search of the guest bedroom, where he had placed Christine upon arrival.

The room was not difficult to locate, and Erik was standing at its threshold in a matter of moments. He quietly placed one of his ears against the door, and listened carefully for any noise that indicated that Christine was awake. When he heard none, Erik gently pulled the door open. Christine was still asleep, most of her small form lost beneath the thick blankets she was tucked beneath. She was sleeping heavily, her breathing deep and even. Erik could see from where he was standing the swollen look of her eyes and nose. Those were the clear indications that she had cried heavily over the last few days.

Erik felt a pang of guilt stab at his heart. _He_ had been the one to cause her such pain. It was his fault that her heart was torn to shreds.

He left the bedroom as quickly as he had entered it, afraid that he would frighten Christine if she woke up. She would surely be confused when she did, and the first thing she saw did not need to be his sad excuse for a face. He astutely decided that the first thing he had to do, then, was find a way to cover his face once more. If Christine was truly serious about staying with him, then he was going to make it as easy as possible for her. It was the least he could do.

"M-Monsieur?"

Erik turned around at the sound of a shaky and terrified feminine voice. Erik immediately felt uneasy; his senses were normally so acute. How had he missed the sound of the little girl's footsteps approaching?

"What are you doing up, girl?" asked Erik more harshly than he had intended. He did not wish to scare the young Giry girl with the wide eyes, but he was in no mood for games. He was more concerned about finding a new mask for himself.

"I heard you come up the s-steps." admitted Meg Giry sheepishly, running a nervous hand through her long blonde locks. "I didn't know i-if it would embarrass you later if I...if I..." Meg trailed off, looking down at her feet.

"If you what?" asked Erik impatiently. He tried to keep the malice from his voice and eyes.

"If I gave you this!" said Meg quickly, retrieving a white mask from behind her back. Erik stared at it in wonder, and his tone of voice considerably softened.

"Where did you find this?" asked Erik incredulously, taking the cold porcelain from Meg's hands. He fastened it upon his face with skill and ease, and felt a bit more comfortable. Now all he would have to do was find himself a wig.

"I c-came down with the mob." admitted Meg quietly, beginning to back away. Erik could see how very much his mere presence intimidated her. "I found it in your home."

Erik stared at Antoinette's daughter for a moment, unsure of what to think of her. She surely had more sense than Christine did; at least she was frightened of him. He could not scare Christine unless he was threatening the life of someone she cared for. Just standing in front of Meg seemed to give the girl higher blood pressure. "Thank you." he finally settled on saying, the words foreign on his tongue. Meg nodded once before dashing madly back into her room and shutting her door. Erik was sure he heard her lock it, as well.

* * *

_"Farewell my fallen idol and false friend! We had such hopes and now those hopes are shattered!" _

_"Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity!"_

_"Say you love him and my life is over!" _

_"Past all hope of cries for help! No point in fighting!" _

_"For either way you choose, you cannot win!" _

_"So do you end your days with me? Or do you send him to his grave?" _

_"Why make her lie to you to save me?" _

_"Angel of Music - who deserves this?" _

Christine stirred restlessly in her bed. She cracked a swollen eye open and her breathing was quick and hitched. Her pulse was rushing, and she burst into tears before she could even form a coherent thought. The dream had been so very real and _vivid_!

"Meg!" croaked Christine desperately, needing reassurance that it had all been, in fact, a dream. Her roommate and closest companion would surely be able to set things straight. "Meg, are you awake yet?"

Christine looked to her left, where Meg's bed was situated, only to find no bed there. The room she rested in was dark yet unfamiliar. The walls were painted a light yellow color that Christine had never seen at the Opera Populaire, and an unfamiliar perfume powerfully scented the air.

"Where am I?" Christine whispered to herself, cringing at the croaking noise her voice made. Her Angel would not be pleased when she next went to her lessons with him. What would he say to her?

"Christine? Are you awake, my dear?"

The sound of Madame Giry's voice was the most comforting thing in the world to Christine. It was steady and familiar and filled with motherly affection. Christine did not know where she was, but she knew that she would be alright as long as Madame was there.

Christine shot up in bed, which she immediately regretted due to the pounding that overtook her head. She tentatively placed a hand to her temple, and cringed. The headache that had befallen her was horrendous.

"How are you feeling?" asked Madame Giry with concern. She walked quietly into the dark room with a candle in her hands, and sat upon the bed Christine rested on. She placed an old hand on Christine's shoulder, and rubbed it gently. Christine visibly relaxed.

"What happened, Madame?" groaned Christine in a thick voice. The pain in her head stung so badly that she could not bear to open her eyes. "Where am I?"

"You are in my home," explained Madame Giry softly, guiding Christine back into a sleeping position. Christine's pain decreased greatly when her head was on the down pillows once more. She sighed in relief, and opened her eyes again. She could see Madame Giry's outline hovering over her protectively. "When the opera house burned down this was the only safe place for you to be?"

"When it...burned down?" questioned Christine numbly. Her mind fogged with confusion.

"You do not remember?" asked Madame Giry in shock. Her eyes filled with disbelief.

"I-It was not a dream?" asked Christine. To push the words from her lips caused her physical pain. "None of it was?"

In answer to her question, Madame Giry began to hum softly. At first Christine was confused; why was Madame was humming? But then she recognized the tune, and all of her doubt disappeared. Though it hurt her voice to do so, Christine began to quietly sing in tune with Madame Giry's humming.

_"Past the point of no return...one final question..."_

She could still feel her Angel's lips on her own.

"Where is he?" she asked Madame Giry. She had to know that her Angel was alright.

"I'd imagine far from Paris, by now." she said unenthusiastically, her eyes hardening. "He seemed to have no desire to remain a part of the Opera when I saw him leave. He would not even speak to me."

"My Angel is...gone?" asked Christine in disbelief, her heart shattering into a thousand pieces. Tears formed in her burning eyes once more. "He left?"

"You mean you were not asking about Monsieur le Vicomte?" asked Madame Giry, her eyebrows raising. Christine shook her head furiously, ignoring the bursts of pain it caused.

"No! Where is the Phantom, Madame Giry? Where is my Angel of Music?" At the mere thought of her Angel, Christine's pulse raced. How she loved him so! It took her far too long to realize it.

Madame Giry smiled knowingly, her eyes filling with childlike happiness. Christine had never seen such a look in her mentor's eyes before. "He left half an hour ago in search of something. He said that he would return soon, and that he would not disturb you until you wished to see him - _if _you wished to see him. If you are not feeling up to it..."

Christine got up before Madame Giry could even finish her sentence. She _had _to see her Angel. "Of course I want to see him." she said absent-mindedly, as though that fact should have been obvious to the older woman. "Of course, I shall need to find something more suitable to wear..." Christine did not even want to know how horrid she looked. She could not let the Angel of Music see her in such a state.

Madame Giry smiled once more. She smiled so rarely that Christine thought she looked like a different person. She wished for Madame to smile even more. "I am sure that Meg has something you could borrow." Christine smiled back, and followed Madame Giry out of the guest bedroom. She knew that the day to come would bring curious wonders indeed.

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**Author's Note: I know this was more of a filler chapter, but it was necessary :P I usually don't write from Christine's POV, as I find it far more fun to get into Erik's head than hers, but I wanted you all to know where she stood in regards to her Angel - I will most like go back to our favorite Phantom's POV tomorrow, when I'm hoping to have Chapter 4 uploaded :) I hope everyone liked this and don't forget to review! Thanks everyone :)**


	4. All I Ask Of You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom, LND, or any songs or characters you recognize.**

**Author's Note: FINALLY! I hope you all enjoy Chapter 4 :) I apologize so much for the long delay! I just finished with a show the other night, so now I should be able to update more frequently. Thank you for the continued support!**

* * *

Christine stared critically at her reflection in the mirror. The dress she wore was a gift from Meg, and was a bit tight and short. The ends of the skirts were just above her ankles, and her waist line looked even smaller than it usually did. The dress was pale blue in color, and fairly simple. Even though it was hardly her size, being in a clean garment made her feel much better almost immediately. She'd been wearing a damp and heavy wedding gown for an unmeasureable amount of time.

Christine looked _tired_. There were deep circles beneath her eyes, and her face was gaunt and pale. She felt exhausted just standing up, and she did not understand how someone could get so much sleep yet still feel so fatigued. Her mind was still clouded and confused, and all she wanted was to see her Angel. She wanted to speak with him, and allow him to comfort her.

She did not know when she was to expect her Angel to return to her. Nearly an hour before, Madame Giry had told Christine that he'd stepped out for a bit to run an errand. But when would he be back? Christine grew more and more uneasy as each minute without him passed. What if he'd left? It made sense, Christine decided. What if her Angel just dropped her off at a safe location and then vanished? What if he changed his mind about wishing to spend the rest of his life with her? What if he didn't love her?

Christine's heart constricted. She could not be allowed to believe such things - in such a world of uncertainty, her Angel's love was all she could count on. She refused to lose that, too. He would return to her, she was sure. He would come home soon.

Christine tied her hair back in a ribbon in an attempt to keep it out of her face. She hardly looked her best, but she hoped her Angel could understand the reason why.

"Christine, what _happened_ between the two of you?"

Christine was startled to hear Meg's voice from the open doorway of the guest bedroom. She turned to see her closest friend dressed for the day and wide awake. Meg was very alert and focused for such an early hour in the morning. The sun had not even risen yet.

"I'm sorry!" continued Meg worriedly. "I didn't mean to just...to just say that so rudely. I just want to know! My mother doesn't seem surprised, but you showed up here in the middle of the night in the arms of the _Opera Ghost_."

Christine felt her exhaustion increase as her eyelids drooped. Unable to continue standing, she sat herself upon the bed, and motioned for Meg to join her there. Meg stared up at Christine expectantly, longing for the answers to so many questions. Christine took a deep breath.

"It's difficult to explain." she murmured tiredly. She tried to cut through the thick haze of confusion to give Meg a clear answer. "After the opera he left...only he left with me...and then Raoul came. And he made me pick, and I chose Raoul, but then I came back...I love him..."

"You're tired." said Meg softly, placing a hand upon Christine's shoulder. She gently guided her back onto the pillows. "Rest longer before you try to explain anything to me. I'm sorry I pressured you so early - I didn't mean to. I'll come back if the Phantom returns, alright?"

Christine's mind was already forming her dreams before she even responded to Meg. All she wanted was to sleep...

* * *

_"Pitiful creature of darkness...what kind of life have you known? _

_"God give me courage to show you...you are not alone!" _

_"Take her, forget me, forget all of this. Leave me alone! Forget all you've seen!" _

_"Swear to me never to tell the secrets you know of the Angel in hell! Go! Go now and LEAVE ME!" _

Christine found that she was not having much success sleeping. No matter how tired she was, when she tried to close her eyes, horrible memories plagued her. Another hour or so must have passed since Meg's visit to her, and her Angel of Music still had not returned. Christine was starting to understand the fact that he would not be coming back to her.

When Christine's father became sick so many years ago, she'd felt helpless. All she had wanted was for him to be well again, but there was nothing she could do to save him. She'd felt him slip through her small fingers each day until he was gone altogether. She'd lost him, her only friend, because she had not been strong enough to save him. She, at the time, was too young and unknowing to do anything useful.

Now, things were different. If her Angel was gone, she would find him. She would spend the rest of her life searching for him if she had to. She would not allow him to leave her forever as her father had. She _could _save her Angel, and she intended to.

Christine got up from her bed in haste; she had no time to lose. The way her Angel moved, he could be in a different country already. Christine quickly went to the wardrobe in the corner of her small room, and removed from it a single coat that was both thick and sturdy. Searching the drawers, she also found a small pair of gloves, a hat, and a pair of wool socks. Satisfied with her choice of clothing, Christine quietly slipped from the bedroom and dashed down the stairs. Moving, she already felt more awake than she had in days. When she reached the threshold, Christine noticed a pair of boots lying in the corner of the sitting room. Deciding that Meg and Madame would not mind her borrowing them, Christine replaced her ballet flats with them. Now, she would be able to walk even longer.

Giving herself no time to decide otherwise, Christine opened the door and stepped into the cold morning air. The sun was just beginning to rise beyond the horizon - she would have very little time to look for her Angel in public. Once the general population of Paris began to stir, he would disappear in the shadows.

Christine did not know where she was, nor where she was going. She assumed that - if Meg had been honest, and her Angel had truly carried her all the way to the Giry residence - the Opera Populaire (or what was left of it) could not be far away. She noted that the house behind her was at the end of the cobblestone road before her. Choosing her course of action, she slowly began to walk. She knew the one sure way to make her Angel appear - she had to sing.

However, her voice was still sore, so Christine settled for humming. She hummed as loudly as she could without causing herself pain, and allowed a familiar tune to radiate from her soul. His music of the night was sure to draw her Angel out of hiding.

* * *

Erik did not mean to take so long. Or perhaps, subconsciously, he did but did not realize it. It had been quite a long and trying journey to make it back to the opera house, and he found that it was even harder to sneak in without being spotted. The fire had been put out, and the structure was still standing, but most of the inside was destroyed. Thankfully, his lair was still in decent condition. The imbociles who had ransacked it after his departure hadn't done a very good job. His compositions were in fair shape, and his wigs were still neatly placed where he'd left them. Just seeing his possessions and precious world breathed some life back into him.

He knew he could not stay. He'd set his future in motion the second he chose to engulf his opera house in flames. He had also changed his life forever by bringing his Christine with him when he'd fled. They both made choices, and now they would have to live with them. While the basement of a musky old building was hardly what someone would consider a palace, it was Erik's home. Part of him felt sadness at leaving it behind.

But he could not waste time on his trivial emotions. He had more important things to attend to.

Working quickly, Erik fashioned a satchuel from a set of old sheets. He gathered some extra sets of clothing, and the works of his he could not bear to leave behind. He fastened a wig atop his head, and secured his mask in place. At least he could look somewhat decent for his darling when he returned to her.

_If she's even still there_.

Erik could not deny the thought that snuck its way into his mind. It was very possible that Christine had crawled back to the Vicomte once she'd regained her senses. What could she possibly want with a monster such as him? He could apply all the makeup and costumes in the world, and still he would never be good enough for the heavenly being that was Christine Daae.

Erik could not afford to think such thoughts! He had to believe that _he_ held Christine's love. In a world of such uncertainty, his Angel's love was all he could count on.

Satisfied with his chosen belongings, Erik began the long trek back to the Giry household. He could only hope that his beautiful love would await him there.

* * *

"I do not know, Erik! She was gone when I awoke!"

_She was gone when I awoke._

Erik sat brokenly upon the bed Christine had slept in. The blankets were still ruffled from where her body had laid upon them. The pillow still smelled of her enchanting perfume. The door of the wardrobe was slightly ajar, leading Erik to believe she had chosen her clothing there. The clothing she would wear to leave the countryside and rejoin society. The clothing she would wear to leave him.

He could not hate her for it. She was not his prisoner, and he could not force her to stay with him if she did not love him. He would not let her be miserable for the rest of her life. She must have known - she must have guessed at the existance she would lead with him. Always running, always hiding, always disappearing into the shadows at the first sign of ill will. Perhaps the little Giry girl had talked to her. Or Antoinette herself. Or maybe Christine had remembered the handsome man dying to marry her.

"But I am dying of love for you."

The hoarse whisper escaped Erik's deformed lips without his permission. He fell back against the pillows in a heap, thinking that _she _had been in the very same position only hours before. It was the closest to Christine he would ever be again. For even in death, she would never be his. She was an Angel of heaven, and he was the very essence of hell. She deserved better. He was kidding himself by thinking she could be happy with him forever.

Erik felt anger bubble in his veins. Fury was his natural response to hardship, and he could not longer contain himself. In a burst of pent up frustration, Erik sprung from the bed and pushed several things off the nearby table. He continued his rampage by kicking the legs of the table. The sound of the wood splitting echoed through the small room, and made him feel slightly satisfied. But the anger was still there, burning in his eyes and making him see red. It wasn't his fault! It wasn't his fault he was born that way!

No, it _was _his fault! His face was the punishment he had to deal with for the sins he had yet to commit. Christine was just more punishment! A beautiful vixen, sent to torture him! That's all Christine had ever been - a tease! Sent from hell to slowly kill him with passion and joy. It wasn't fair!

In his haste, Erik swiftly caught a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror that rested in the corner of the room. Christine had probably stood in front of it earlier, fixing her dress or her hair. She must have looked at herself and seen naught but beauty. When Erik saw himself, he almost threw up in disgust. He ripped his mask from his face and forced himself to look at the monstrosity. That was his face! If you could even call it that.

Ignoring the pain he was sure it would cause him, Erik took a gloved hand and smashed the mirror. He hit it repeatedly until it was nothing but millions of shards upon the floor. Even that could not asuage him, however. He did not know how to deal with the loss of Christine. He had lost her before, but never so permanently. It had never felt so final.

Erik sank to the floor in despair. He was completely overwhelmed with a thousand foreign emotions. He could not even sob. His dry eyes burned with rage and hurt and loss. He had always been alone, whether he'd tried to convince himself otherwise or not.

Erik fastened his mask back upon his face. He felt invincible when his face was hidden - he felt like a dangerous, deadly Opera Ghost that no one would dare insult or anger. He felt powerful, and that was what he needed in the light of his loss. He needed control.

Erik did not register the sound of the creaking old door opening a floor beneath him. He did not register anything. He was lost in his thoughts. Though he did catch the sound of a hysterical voice crying, "I could not find him, I could not find him."

Christine was gone. Erik had nothing to live for anymore. And so it was that Erik was gone as well, replaced eternally by the Phantom.

The Phantom stood from the ground, ignoring the sound of glass crunching beneath his feet. He straightened his mask and wig, and wore upon his face a look that could kill. A cold and stoic hardness he had once known before he'd found a crying child in the chapel of the opera house replaced the little shred of love he'd once called a heart.

_"All I want is freedom...a world with no more night. _

_"And you, always beside me. To hold me and to hide me." _

She'd once made her feelings abundantly clear. He'd just been too blinded by foolish _love _to remember those little verses when she'd returned that night.

* * *

**So we can see that Erik has become a little...unhinged. Is Christine too late? What will become of their love? Where will they go? What of Raoul? Give me your thoughts in a review! They make my day :) Thank you for reading!**


	5. That Moment When Words Run Dry

**When Love Begins**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom :(**

**Author's Note: Thanks for sticking around for Chapter 5, everybody! Promised a faster update, didn't I? (: Thank you to all of the favorites/follows I've received for this story, and the three reviews I got last chapter! Please, if you're reading, don't forget to comment - it really makes me more enthused as a writer to hear what my audience wants/thinks. This isn't a story that's already been written, so I'm always open to ideas and inspiration :) Oh, and Almost An Actress: the show was Anything Goes :) So much fun to perform! Okay, I'm done with my ranting - I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Christine's heart was full of sorrow as she made her way back to the Giry residence. In glum spirits, she could not even hum any longer. It had been quite an unsuccessful day searching for her Angel, and she wondered how she would be able to search for him for the rest of her life without giving up. She was exhausted and depressed after just a few hours. She did not even know where to begin looking for him - odds are he would not have stayed in Paris, and in that case, there were endless cities and villages where he could be hiding.

It was nearly twilight when Christine returned to the dwelling of the closest thing she had to a family. Did that make it her home, then?

Christine's aching feet welcomed the worn out mat in front of the door. She did not bother to knock - if she was going to be living there, she would have to treat it like it was _her _house. She turned the bronze doorknob, unsurprised that it was not locked. The moment she stepped into the grand foyer, however, she broke down. She saw Madame and Meg standing there worriedly, as though they had been waiting for her. They cared so much for her...the tears welled, and Christine could not stop them. She hurled herself into Madame's arms, and cried only that she could not find her Angel.

She was shocked that Madame knew what she was talking about.

"It is alright, my child." she soothed gently, rubbing Christine's back. "All is well."

All is well? Christine wanted to shout at her foster-mother so badly, but could not find the energy. How could all be well when her Angel was out in the world, possibly homeless or hungry? Christine stared at Madame uncomprehendingly, but before she could explain, a loud crash was heard from the floor above them. Madame Giry shut her eyes, whether in pain or irritation Christine could not tell. Meg, however, wore a much more optimistic look upon her face. She gave Christine a small, sad smile and said, "He's back."

It took Christine a moment to understand what those words meant. _He's back_. Breaking free from Madame's hold, Christine made a mad dash for the steps, throwing off her boots and coat as she did so. Her gloves were disposed of next, and a bright smile slipped onto her tired face.

"Christine, wait!" called Madame in despair, running desperately after Christine. "You must not go up there!"

"It's alright, Madame!" said Christine jovially, pausing only for a moment to turn around and face Meg and Madame. "He would never hurt me, you must know that! He is my Angel of Music!"

"Christine, no!" said Madame sternly, rushing to catch up with Christine. When she did, she placed a firm grip upon her forearm. "He thought that you left, Christine. You ran away with no indication that you would ever come back!"

Christine's heart sank as she registered Madame's words. She wrinkled her brow in confusion. "But...he'd been gone so long. I thought _he _left, and I had to save him, Madame! I never thought he would reappear while I was away! How could he think that I would leave him? I came back to him before, did I not?"

"Just trust me, my dear." said Madame gently, loosening her grip on Christine. That was a mistake, for the moment she was free, Christine continued running up the steps. She completely ignored the calls and warnings coming from behind her.

"How could they think he would hurt me?" she mumbled to herself. She rolled her eyes in fond annoyance, and continued the trek to her room, where she was sure her Angel awaited her.

When she reached her door, anticipation began to bubble within Christine's stomach. He was just beyond the threshold! He was there, alive and well, waiting for her. She loved him, and he loved her, and they would somehow find a way to be together.

The door was closed, and since it was her Angel, Christine decided to knock. She knew how protective he was of his privacy, and even if he was not doing anything important, she could be barging in on him while he was in thought. However, four knocks later, there came no reply. Christine knocked louder, hoping he would hear her urgency. He did not. Still it remained silent. Christine could wait no longer - she hastily and clumsily opened the door. She gasped at the sight before her.

There were shards of glass _everywhere_. Her golden mirror was completely broken; even the gild frame was bent. Her small table was cracked and torn to pieces, and the books and knick knacks that used to be on the shelves were broken upon the floor. The blanket on her bed was ripped and wrinkled, and the curtains were drawn. Only a single candle was lit, giving the room an eerie, unsettling feeling. These were not the details that caught Christine's attention, however.

Her Angel did not stand before her, but the Phantom of the Opera certainly did. His eyes were narrowed in a deadly manner, and his face was stony and frightening to behold. His stature was tall and erect, and his entire being radiated dangerousness.

Christine's eyes widened, and she took an unintentional step backwards. Her voice broke as she whispered, "A-Angel?"

If possible, the Phantom's eyes narrowed even further. As Christine stepped back he stepped forward, and leaned into her. The moment did not seem at all romantic or intimate. Christine felt adrenaline pump through her veins in _fear_.

His voice was crisp, and the sound of it made Christine think of swords piercing her heart. "I," he claimed. "-am no one's _Angel_."

"Please," begged Christine, tears pricking her eyes. "Please, do not be angry with me _mon ange!_ I intended from the start to return - I only left because I was searching for you!"

The Phantom scoffed. "What _Angel_ do you know with a face so _hideous_? Get out."

"Angel, please - "

"GET OUT!" the command was so harsh, Christine flinched. Even in his worst tempers, her Angel had never screamed at her with so much fervor. She stared into his eyes, noticing how black and lifeless they were. So different than the last time she'd seen them..."LEAVE THIS PLACE!" he continued to roar. "OR YOU SHALL REGRET IT!"

The Phantom took another step forward. Christine stepped back again, and her bare feet suddenly felt white hot with pain. As she looked down, breaking terrifying eye contact with the Phantom, she noticed the glass. Crimson was starting to mingle with the tiny reflective shards.

Christine hissed in pain, and felt the pieces of the mirror embedding themselves into the sole of her left foot. She quickly picked the foot up, and held it in her hands. Thanking her years of ballet training for the balance, Christine maintained hers on one foot.

The pain was intense, but Christine tried not to scream. She looked back up at the Phantom, pleading him with her eyes to help her. He looked down at her foot, and the moment he saw the blood, his eyes snapped out of their intense darkness. His gaze flickered between Christine and her foot, and his facial features softened considerably. Without a word, he swept Christine up in his arms, and laid her on the bed. He turned on his heel, and left the room.

* * *

Erik realized as he stood outside Christine's room that he was incredibly prone to overreaction.

It had been nearly a quarter of an hour - how long did Giry need to remove the glass from his Angel's foot? The thought of her pain, of the crimson stains upon the floor, sent pangs of guilt through Erik's entire body. It was _his _fault Christine had hurt herself. Not only had he frightened her into backing up more than she should have, he had broken the damn mirror in the first place. Why could he only hurt her?

Without warning, the door to Christine's room opened. Madame Giry stepped out with a glass bowl and towels in her hands. Erik stared at her ashamed, expecting to hear one of her accusations. The elder woman did not disappoint.

"How _dare_ you?" she hissed angrily, her eyes darkening. Erik wondered if that was what he looked like when he was the Phantom. "You are a _grown man_, Erik! Yet you behave so foolishly when you're not given your way! It could have cost that girl her foot!"

"Giry -"

"I will hear _none _of your excuses." said Giry. She brushed past Erik with a huff, and went downstairs. Erik turned back to the door, and knew that he would have to face his Christine sooner rather than later. Taking a deep breath, not used to feeling such shame, he entered Christine's bedroom.

She was laying in her bed contentedly. She was propped against many pillows in a sitting position, keeping her left foot (which was wrapped) elevated. The moment she saw Erik, her face lit up and her smile brightened. She motioned for him to come in and sit beside her. Erik wondered if it was all a dream - he'd been the cause of her injury! Shouldn't he be begging for her forgiveness?

"I hoped you would come in." said Christine happily when her Angel at last was beside her. Erik must have had a blank look upon his face, for he could not ascertain Christine's intentions. "Please don't feel poorly about my foot," she continued. "It was my own fault for coming in without your permission. Besides, it will be fine. No harm done."

"C-Christine," stuttered Erik. What was he to say to such nonsense?

"Not a word." said Christine, reaching her hand out to her Angel. Hesitant though he was, he took her offer and grasped her tiny hand firmly. The moment he did, he felt more at peace than he had in a long time. Christine's eyes fluttered closed, and she relaxed into the blankets. She murmured, "Sing for me."

So he did. Erik would do anything for Christine. He sang softly and gently to her, lulling her into a dreamless sleep. He did not know what the next day would bring, but he knew it would bring Christine. And as long as his Angel was with him, things could never be horrid...could they?

* * *

"I do not _care _if she disappeared, André! Find her _now_!"

"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte! Right away, dear patron! Monsieur Firmin and I will find our best men to put to the task, I assure you. Do you require anything else, sir?"

"That monster's horrendous face on a _platter_ would be splendid, thank you."

"Monsieur?"

"Do you not understand _anything_, Monsieur André?"

"Monsieur le Vicomte, I-"

"Christine went back to return that hideous creature's ring to him, and she never returned. He _abducted_ her, and she is _your _star, sir. As well as my fiancée."

"Of course, Monsieur."

"I will not rest until she is safely in my arms once more, sir. That I can very well promise."

* * *

**I know it got kind of fluffy between E/C there, and I was really excited about writing some romance at last! But if Erik and Christine no longer have the center conflict between _themselves_, I fear it was...neccessary to bring the Vicomte back -_- (that is my unamused face). So I hope you liked the chapter, and don't forget to review! Chapter 6 will be comin' your way soon :) Thanks guys!**

**Also...just watched the 1989 version of Phantom...so incredibly creeped out right now O.O**


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